


Solider on

by That_Writing_Thing



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dave would punch Reginald if he could and you can’t tell me otherwise, Honestly it’s not that angsty, Idk y’all let some cute shit be cute shit, Klaus sees dead people, M/M, Reginald Hargreeves A+ parenting, Some people have asked how Dave would touch klaus, ghosts and sipirits and such, its some feel good shit, semi fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:04:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_Writing_Thing/pseuds/That_Writing_Thing
Summary: Klaus Hargreeves is 13 when his father locks him into a mausoleum for hours, and a ghost from klaus’s future is there to comfort him





	1. Chapter 1

Klaus had been locked in the mausoleum for five hours. Five horrifyingly long, torturous hours. He couldn’t feel his toes or his fingers, and his hair stuck to his forehead with a cold sweat. His entire body shook as he begged and pleaded to be let alone, cowering in the farthest corner of the stone building. But still they screamed and shouted at him. The spirits, they just wanted contact, somebody to listen to what they had to say, but even then they cried out savagely; making their words unintelligible to the young boy. Their faces were in varying states of injury and age as they flashed into his vision, trying their hardest to get the attention of the young medium.  
“ _Dad_!”  
He cried out, burning tears streaming down his face as he desperately tries to cover his ears, to block out the noise that just wouldn’t stop coming. But he knew deep inside that his father wouldn’t come for him, that he would be left in this hell as long as his father thought he should be.  
“ _Please_! Leave me alone!”  
Klaus begs, his voice racked with sobs as he tries desperately to catch his breath, to steady his pounding heart, but it was all too much.  
“That’s enough.”  
A mans voice breaks through the racket, it was strong and steady and calm. Klaus fearfully glances up from between his fingers and sees a pair of legs standing in front of him, the mans back to him. The man wore an army uniform, the color of it indecipherable in the darkness, but he could see the telltale boots and cargo pants, and the jacket with too many pockets. The spirits continued to scream and beg, but they seemed unsure of themselves, none of them passing the solider guarding klaus. Finally though, one builds up the courage and tries to break past the barrier the man had made, but the solider grabs the spirit by the back of its shirt, throwing its to the ground roughly and without hesitation.  
“I _said_ , that’s enough.”  
The man growls, the spirit scrambling away from him and into the darkness. Klaus stars at the mans back in shock; the solider had touched the ghost. He must be a ghost as well. Why would he help me? Klaus wonders to himself, his body still violently shaking as the man fights off two more spirits. The rest seem to take the hint and vanish into the dark shadows of the mausoleum, whispering angrily amongst themselves. The solider turns slowly, looking down at klaus in pity, before crouching down next to the pale boy. Klaus could see the mans chest was ruined, a deep red hole right in the middle, the skin around it torn to shreds. It looked like it hurt. Klaus’s bottom lip quivers as he tries his hardest not to stare at the bullet wound in the soldiers chest, and instead focusing on his face. He had a strong facial structure, and his eyes were light. Klaus knew even at his young age that this man was handsome.  
“Are you alright?”  
The solider asks softly, searching klaus’s face. Klaus swallows roughly, glancing to the shadows behind the solider. The pale faces of the spirits glared at him, waiting for the man to leave.  
“Who _are_ you?”  
Klaus asks quietly and the man grimaces, running a hand through his short hair. He deliberates for a second before sighing.  
“Dave. My name is Dave.”  
He says, turning and looking pointedly at a ghost that had been edging closer and closer the last few minutes. The ghost sees Dave looking and vanishes instantly, a terrified look in its eyes.  
“Thank you, Dave”  
Klaus finally says, his voice watery. Dave gives him a grin and ruffles the pale boys dark hair. The door to the mausoleum opens suddenly with a loud creak, the menacing shadow of Reginald Hargreeves blocking out what little light klaus had been able to find.  
“Are you ready to come out number four?”  
He asks, his voice booming. Klaus looks from his father to Dave who nods at him encouragingly. Klaus nods quickly and his father stares at him for a moment before grunting to himself and turning to leave, leaving the door open. Klaus stares at the open door for a moment before Dave takes him by the elbow and helps him up, gently pushing klaus out into the sweet fresh air. Klaus follows his father, who was striding purposefully to the black car he had waiting, and glances behind him to see Dave leaning casually against the doorframe. Klaus gives him a shy wave and in return Dave grins, giving him a relaxed salute before fading away into the darkness of the night.


	2. The briefcase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 17 years after klaus first met Dave, he finds him once again. But this time it’s in person, and he can’t help but admit he liked it much better that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t going to write a follow up at first, but it had been nagging at me for some time... so here we go

Klaus's body was beaten and battered, his head felt like it had been pounded in with a hammer, then pounded back into something vaguely head shaped. The constant sway of the bus relaxed him more than he thought it would have. Sitting there on the plastic seat wearing only a bloody bathrobe and a dirty black trench coat, he couldn't help but wiggle hair bare toes. He was free, he had actually escaped his captors.

He held the heavy briefcase tightly to his chest, winking playfully at the ginger woman sitting across from him. She smiles sweetly in response and he can't help but chuckle to himself as he fumbles the black box, searching for how to open it.

" _Please_ be cash, or maybe even jewels? Just be something expensive, come on."

He whispers hopefully to himself, unlatching it. In a blinding flash of light he feels his entire body compress, and then stretch, before he's thrown onto the dirt. Klaus gasps, glancing around like a wild animal. The sound of helicopters and gunfire were overpowering, and when he looked up he saw only green canvas. Looking around he sees dozens of men packed into the green tent, all sleeping in army uniforms on cots. He glances to the man laying on the cot next to him, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. The man stared at him in confusion, his eyebrows knitted together. Klaus's pounding heart stops in its tracks as his breath catches in his throat. He knew this man, it was his solider.

"Dave?"

Klaus whispers to himself so quietly that the man doesn't hear him, but klaus knew without a doubt that it was the same person. The same man who had fought off the ghosts in the mausoleum 17 years ago. Klaus had never forgotten him. Not for one second. The gunfire grows louder and an officer storms into the tent, shouting orders at the other soldiers, who all jump up in response, donning their clothes. Klaus's tries to explain himself, but before he knows what's happening, Dave is handing him a pair of pants and someone's shoving a helmet on his head, pushing him roughly out of the tent and into war.

 

 

They rode the bus through the unfamiliar terrain. It bounced and jostled roughly, klaus keeping the briefcase tightly between his feet under his seat. All of his clothes were borrowed, the only thing that was his were the brand new boots tied on his feet that were a size too big. He had been thrown into the war without hesitation. Nobody cared that he didn't know what year it was, or that he wasn't on any list or register. Nobody cared that he didn't own any dog tags, or that he technically wouldn't be born for another 21 years, or that he would occasionally have one sided conversations with the empty seat next to him. They needed men to fight, so they let him fight. As klaus sat lost in thought, he hears a familiar voice.

"You just get in country?"

Dave asks, klaus turning on instinct to the mans familiar voice.

"Yea!"

Klaus responds, not caring how cheerful he sounded or how goofy his smile likely was. He had solved a mystery that had haunted him for the better part of his life, and it was in the form of a handsome rugged man with sparkling blue eyes. Dave introduces himself, taking klaus's hand, and klaus feels his heart warming upon contact, noticing that Dave's eyes and smile linger for a moment longer than normal. It was comforting.

 

The bar was packed and while the sixties weren't klaus's favorite decade, he fell into the groovy music naturally. He had to restrain himself lately, knowing that he was considered outlandishly gay even by 21st century standards, so 1968 wasn’t exactly welcoming of him. while everyone that he knew was drunk enough to not be able to remember their last names, he was able to dance freely and loosely. He stumbles backwards and bumps into a firm shoulder, turning and holding his fist up playfully. Dave faces him, obviously drunk, eyeing klaus from his black curls to his shoes, taking him in entirely. Klaus can't help his smirk, heavily gazing at Dave as they chuckle at each other. Dave recommends a drink and klaus obliges, sauntering to the bar while staring at Dave's broad shoulders and strong arms. He was beautiful.

 

Klaus forgets himself for a moment, ordering his drink in Vietnamese. Dave and the bartender give him confused looks, and klaus blushes for what he thinks is the first time in his life.

"You know Vietnamese?"

Dave asks with an awed look. Klaus clears his throat bashfully, drinking what the bartender had slid to him in one gulp.

"My old man figured I should learn as many languages as possible, so I could speak to anybody I needed to."

Klaus says casually, trying to brush the conversation away. Dave didn't need to know that it was because his father wanted him to be able to communicate with any spirit who wanted to use him as a medium.

"How many do you know?"

Dave asks, clearly intrigued. Klaus can't help but smirk at the other man. His childhood wasn't something klaus enjoyed thinking about, but he did enjoy showing off for a hot slice like Dave. Klaus causally leans against the bar, lazily counting on his fingers as Dave took another sip of his drink, watching klaus intently. klaus soaked up the attention, relishing it much more than he’d be willing to admit.

"About uhhh... 17? Ten fluently and the other seven I have a general grasp of"

Klaus responds honestly, ordering another drink. Bringing up his personal life wasn't something he enjoyed, but the shocked and excited look on Dave's face was worth it.

“That’s incredible klaus! You must be some type of genius!”

Dave exclaims, grinning widely. Klaus snorts, almost spitting out what he had just taken a swing of.

“Hardly. I’m the family idiot and they aren’t afraid to let me know”

Klaus grumbles into his drink and Dave places a hand on klaus’s arm comfortingly.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot. Your family is full of idiots if they don’t see how smart you are.”

Dave whispers and klaus blushes once again, shyly smiling up at the blonde man before glancing back down to the floor.

 

 

Many drinks later the two of them had found some corner where they could be alone, joking and talking with one another. Klaus flirted shamelessly, four drinks past being subtle, and Dave responded positively, gently caressing klaus's arms and smiling lazily at him. With eyes half lidded Dave puts his hand on the back of Klaus's neck, rubbing it comfortingly.

"You're awful pretty."

Dave slurs in a low voice and klaus can't help but stare at his lips, licking his in anticipation. He had heard men and women alike telling him he was attractivesince he was 15, sometimes it was positive, sometimes it wasn't. He couldn't remember how many times men had spit the words "pretty boy" at him like they were venom. It was usually those men that would later approach him under the cover of darkness, begging for something klaus wasn't willing to give out. Dave was different though, he was strong and gentle, honest and sweet, he was unlike any man klaus had met before and he was drawn to it like a magnet. They kiss gently, forgetting for a moment where they were and who they were, just enjoying the moment in each others arms. It was heaven.

 

 

in a flash of blinding light, Klaus was back on the bus, the one with the cold plastic seats that he had found so comforting ten months earlier. His hands still had Dave's blood on them, and he lets out a shuddering breath, staring at the bright light around him. The air is different here, it wasn't clean by any means, but for the first time in ten months the smell of death wasn't invading his nostrils. He knew Dave was going to die one day, that he would be shot in the chest, but he had never considered that he wouldn't be able to stop it. He whispers to himself, muttering over and over for a medic in a voice so low he could barely hear it, an echo of what he had been screaming for what felt like hours before he had taken Dave's dog tags from his dead body, and torn his patch from his jacket.

the old man next to him gives him a disgusted look at his senseless rambling. The bus stops and he stumbles off, someone throwing a bottle in a garbage can next to him causing his entire body to recoil in fear, the sound ricocheted inside his mind like a pinball. He stumbles a few more paces before looking down at the briefcase in his hand. It was this damn things fault. All of it. In a fit of rage and despair he slams it against a nearby metal bench over and over again, before throwing it onto the sidewalk with all the strength he could muster. He couldn't see through his tears as he screamed and cried till his throat was raw, collapsing to the ground sobbing. He scratched at the dirt, trying to find something to root him, something to keep him from flying into nothingness. But his body gave out beneath him and he laid on the ground, sobs racking his body ferociously. Dave was gone. Forever. Ten months in the thick of the Vietnam war to be with a man who was now dead. He couldn't find any reason to continue living. His life seemed without purpose. Then something in the back of his mind tugs, giving him memories of the many deals he would make in the back alleys of the city. The drugs would numb him. Klaus somehow manages to pull his body up into an unsteady stance, looking around. He knew he didn't have any money to buy drugs, but he needed them like he needed air. Suddenly a soft voice that he hadn't heard in so long speaks up.

"So where'd you go for the last two days?"

Ben asks, his voice like a fresh glass of water in the desert. Klaus turns to the ghost of his brother, his bottom lip quivering.

"Hell."

Klaus replies hoarsely, and bens look of pity is enough for another sob to rack his body.

"You should go home."

Ben says comfortingly. Klaus nods, exhausted. The world was still ending, the love of his life had just died in his arms, and there was a bed waiting for him. A real bed. And he knew he had drugs sewn into a stuffed unicorn plushie under his bed. So there he went, stumbling like he just been through war; which he had. A small weight was lifted off his shoulders knowing that he would get to see his brothers and sisters for the first time in almost a year for him.

 

They hadn't even noticed he had left; and they never even asked where his fully healed tattoo came from, or his dog tags, or his army jacket with 'Hargreeves' sewn into the breast, or the fact that he suddenly was shades darker and had more muscle definition than he had ever had in his entire life. Nobody cared at all. Klaus didn't know why he expected anything else, but it was still like a punch in the gut.


End file.
